


Some Things Don't Change

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: My framework hiatus fic that is finally complete! I tried to keep my original plan without any influence from canon. You can tell because it's much smuttier and happier.





	Some Things Don't Change

At the perfunctory knock on the office door, May turned from the large window overlooking the bay – more of a moat, really – below and the city farther away. 

“Enter.”

Her chief of security walked in, professional and controlled in her motions as always. 

“Director,” she greeted, and May nodded in response.

Stepping over to her desk, May took a seat even as she glanced up expectantly.

“The monitors have picked up another…surge. Three more, in fact, but two of them occurred much later. Not even the Zola Software has identified anything useful.”

May sighed. She took the report and dismissed the other woman with a nod. Once the door had swung shut, May opened the file folder and began to read. There was no reason for the little blips of energy, the discrepancies and occasional missing data. It was time to put her best agents on it and finally figure it out.

Not many things stayed a secret from Hydra for long.

**

The phone rang in Daisy’s hand, startling her out of the stupor she entered when she had seen the photograph of her and – her and…him. She nearly dropped the cell as she attempted to silence it before it was too la –

“Morning, babe.”

She wanted to vomit, although she couldn’t tell if it was because the sound of his voice still grated even after so long or because of the term of endearment. 

“Cory? Gonna answer that?”

Who now? There was no one else in the room, though, so obviously he’d meant her. Daisy gulped, clenching her hand tighter around the phone. She forced herself to look at him, taking in his rumpled clothes and sleep-tousled hair, the clean-shaven look he’d lost long ago and the little bit of softness over his muscles. 

“We’re being called in,” she replied, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears.

Ward groaned good-naturedly. “A hacktivist’s job is never done.”

Daisy literally felt the eyes bug out of her head. Somehow, that was even more surprising than seeing Grant Ward back from two deaths and sleeping in what was apparently her bed.

**

“Hello Rosemary,” Leo greeted with a smile. He was always happy to see her – she’d been his father’s right-hand woman since the start of the business and was almost like a second mum to him.

“Saw you on the telly this morning,” she replied, somewhat leadingly. He suppressed a groan, knowing what was coming. “Quite the stunning plus-one you had with you.”

He made a noncommittal noise. 

“I take it she’s not the future Mrs. Fitz?”

“He in? Free?” Leo asked, in a desperate although no doubt unsuccessful attempt to change the subject.

“You could ask someone to accompany you to one of those things that you’re actually interested in, you know. Give it a real chance to – ”

“Oh, come on Rosemary,” Leo grumbled.

“Someone has to nag you about these things,” she said with a grin. “Your mum just thinks you’re perfect in every way.”

“And my father doesn’t care,” Leo concluded, a touch more bitter than he’d prefer. He forced a smile to cover his slip, then pointed at the office door behind her. 

She nodded, already moving to pick up a ringing phone, and Leo angled past her as he headed towards his father’s office. With a cursory knock, he entered. His father was on the phone and waved him in distractedly. Leo sat, crossed one leg over the other and then fought the urge to twiddle his thumbs while he waited. Leopold Fitz Senior disapproved of fidgeting. 

“You wanted to see me?” he asked as soon as his father ended the call.

“Yes, I want you to accompany me to a contract negotiation.”

Leo raised a curious eyebrow. His role in the company usually took one of two forms: appear at high society events with a supermodel, or hole up in a lab and invent their next million-dollar device. Negotiations were decidedly not within his expected duties.

“This has the potential to set the company up for decades. An exclusive deal. And they’re particularly interested in your work.”

“Who’s they?” Leo asked.

“Hydra.”

He immediately shook his head. “No.”

“Leo.”

“Dad! Hydra?”

“They’re the most well-funded organization – ”

“They’re bloody - FitzTech is successful enough not to have to make deals with the devil.”

His father sighed, then walked over to sit at his desk. He didn’t even look at Leo when he spoke again, the dismissive tone of his voice more than final.

“The meeting’s tomorrow morning.”

**

Jemma gasped as she woke, jerking upright where she – the Framework placeholder of herself, at any rate – had fallen asleep at her desk. She looked around nervously, sighing in relief when she saw the small office was unshared. Patting her pockets quickly, she found a phone but nothing else. She leaned over, pulling open drawers until she discovered a purse in the bottom one. She opened it quickly, digging out the wallet and then sighing in relief when she saw it was indeed her. Ish.

 _Jemma Anne Simmons_. Professor of biochemistry, University of Virginia. Framework Jemma had not had a good day when she took the photograph for her faculty ID, but the one on her driver’s license was tolerable. 

She tossed the handbag aside and unlocked the phone screen, thankful that she was apparently as uncreative as ever in coming up with a four-digit PIN. No messages yet. Daisy probably hadn’t had time to locate her. Jemma hoped she had had a safe entry into the Framework. With a sigh, Jemma looked around the small office again, then rolled her chair closer to the desk, tapping the keyboard to wake up the computer, which presumably had gone into sleep mode sometime after Framework Jemma had. 

“Oh, bloody – ” she murmured when it prompted her for a password.

She typed in her go-to password – _TaRDiS#87_ – with no luck. Perhaps _Doctor Who_ did not exist in this godforsaken place?

With painful hope, she typed in _I <3LFitz_, the password she’d started using, rather embarrassingly, several months ago. She shouldn’t have been surprised when it didn’t work.

She tried several more possibilities, each earning a frustrated growl, before she finally lucked out with _5heff1eld_ , the password from her very first email account. Nearly cheering with relief, Jemma opened an internet browser. 

And then she stared at the screen, not sure where to start. She closed her eyes, breathing out as she thought. First, she should probably make sure the backdoor she had programmed in was there and undetected. 

And so she typed… _Jemma Anne Simmons DOB September 11 DOD November 8._

The number of people in the UK with the same name could be anywhere in the hundreds or possibly even thousands. And over 19 million people in the world could have the same birthday. The chances for either of those would be even greater in the Framework, which no doubt had much redundant code in order to conserve processing power to maintain the illusions most important for its – well, victims. But the likelihood of a person sharing a full name, date of birth and date of death…

Very small. Small enough to find easily in an internet search. Too small to raise any red flags in the system. 

Their escape hatch was present – and safe. 

Jemma next searched for Daisy. They had to find each other as quickly as possible, get their plan up and – no results. Jemma furrowed her brow, more than a little confused. She typed it again, carefully. 

And then she searched on Skye. And then she even searched on Mary Sue Poots. 

When that came back unsuccessful as well, Jemma fought against an urge to scream. It had been a devastating and long few hours, and she couldn’t – she wouldn’t – 

She’d give it a few minutes. Daisy would be much more adept at finding her, anyway. 

But the phone never rang. Not once over the next two hours.

**

Daisy scowled, then pulled on the handcuff connecting her to the rickety chair in the precinct. Fitting, really. In her years with the Rising Tide, she had never once been arrested. One time with Ward, and here she was, waiting to be interrogated. If she even knew _why_ , that’d be one thing, but Ward had been unforthcoming about the aim of the break-in.

She couldn’t help but notice he’d escaped, leaving her to take the fall. A real Prince Charming in every universe. 

Daisy sighed, wondering if she could reach the computer on the desk from her current location. She could look up Jemma as planned – only (damn it) three hours behind schedule at this point. She _really_ should have found a way to do so before leaving in response to the mysterious message, but she had just been too thrown by the turn of events. But if she could look her up now, she could make contact when she finally got her one phone call. 

With a surreptitious glance around the precinct, Daisy scooched her hair a quarter inch at a time. Closer and closer and closer…

A file folder was dropped – rather loudly – on top of the keyboard. She nearly swore, thankful she hadn’t been ready to type yet. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Sutter.”

Daisy whipped around, staring at the newcomer with equal parts relief and a stunned grief that was as sharp as it had ever been. 

“I’m Detective Triplett,” he said, “and I have a few questions for you.”

**

Jemma watched as her mobile spun in ever slower circles on the surface of the bar in front of her as she waited for the bartender, who was currently at the far end flirting for tips. Still no word from Daisy. And she was still too nervous to search for Fitz. Wherever he was, she was pretty sure he was not in her life. Her…framework version of a life, that is. Nothing about her office or belongings suggested otherwise. And if he wasn’t, then something had seriously gone wrong in this world.

Suddenly, a bottle of beer was placed in front of her. Jemma reached out quickly to stop her phone from smacking into it, then looked at the bartender in surprise. 

An extreme amount of surprise.

“I didn’t order this,” she breathed out.

He shrugged, flipped a towel over his shoulder and leaned on his elbows. “Looked like you needed it, love.”

Of all the people she wanted, even needed to see, she hadn’t expected him. And she certainly hadn’t expected the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. His own widened at the sight.

“Hell, come on now. Can’t be that bad, whatever it is.”

“No, I – no. I’m just…waiting for someone,” she lied, tapping one nail against the screen of her phone.

And then the charm turned back on. Well, Jemma assumed that other women, women who didn’t know him quite as well as she did, would find it charming. 

“Who would ever stand you up?”

Jemma smiled in spite of herself, and he nodded. 

“That’s what I like to see,” he observed. Then, he leaned closer again. “Maybe I can keep you company while you’re waiting.”

He said it with a sort of James Bond from the Wrong Side of the Tracks smoothness, and Jemma felt a bit like throwing up in her mouth.

“All right,” she finally said. “I’m Jemma.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Jemma. I’m Lance.”

With a small, noncommittal noise, Jemma reached out for the bottle of beer, taking a sip to hide her smile. As she lifted her hand away from her phone, however, she watched Hunter’s eyebrows raise. He picked the phone up gingerly, turning it over in his hands.

Oh God, Jemma thought. Surely he wasn’t going to try some entering-his-number-into-her-phone ploy. 

“Is this the new FitzTech phone? I haven’t seen – ”

Jemma choked, coughing up her drink with loud hacks. She couldn’t breathe for many long moments. Finally, she managed to say, “Did you just say _FitzTech_?”

**

May watched the two Fitz men with an expression she knew betrayed nothing. The pitch was irrelevant; she knew already, of course, what they had in their R&D pipeline. Hydra paid very good money to get that kind of information leaked to them from all the top companies. She wouldn’t have even arranged the meeting if she didn’t have some idea.

No, the goal of this supposed negotiation was to get a better grasp on the son in particular. May knew that he was the real brains behind the operation, and even more importantly, her latest reports suggest that the _inconsistencies_ Hydra’s monitors kept picking up may be linked to a researcher named Radcliffe in one of the labs ostensibly under his supervision.

He didn’t seem like a threat, yet he wasn’t even trying to hide that he was strongly opposed to the deal with Hydra that his father was aggressively pursuing. And that, of course, caught May’s attention. She’d have to keep an eye on him.

**

Daisy strained to listen to the conversation Trip was having with a fellow officer. Unfortunately, there was too much noise in the station and they were too far away. They weren’t even facing the right direction for lip reading. So, basically, she was just staring at him in a really intense sort of way, which became apparent when he turned to face her. Daisy immediately looked away, trying to appear innocent.

Moments later, Trip was back. 

“I want to talk to you about your boyfriend more.”

“I wouldn’t call him that. I don’t even know the guy really.” And that was more honest than he even knew.

“Do you at least know his past? Or about his rap sheet a mile long? You really want to go to jail for this while he gets away? He’s not a good guy.”

“You have no idea,” Daisy replied.

“Then tell me.”

She weighed her options. What was he likely to believe, what would get her out of there and on her way to Simmons, what kind of help might they ultimately need from Trip, how much of the timeline was similar to what she knew anyway…

Daisy leaned forward. “You got anything in there about attempted arson?”

**

Jemma looked up from the screen of her phone – her _FitzTech_ phone – and made eye contact with Hunter again. He raised one eyebrow, no doubt confused by her frantic web search for details on someone who likely was very well known in the Framework world. Hell, he was practically Tony Stark or someone. She smiled sheepishly.

“This is going to sound weird.”

“I like weird.”

“I need to meet him.”

There was a long pause. “Yeah, that’s maybe not the weird I was hoping for,” Hunter replied. “And it’s not like we’ve got a meeting with Leo Fitz on the menu so…”

“I know! But – you’re – you seem like the kind of guy who could figure something like that out. I’d…I’d pay you.”

He smiled suddenly, dropping back down to rest his elbows on the bar. “Just because the bar is called the Merc doesn’t mean I am one. I’d love to help you.” He gave her a once-over and Jemma tried not to roll her eyes. “I’d _really_ love to help you, but – ”

“Look, stop. Just stop with – he’s my boyfriend.”

His expression was equal parts surprise and skeptical. “He knock you up or something?”

Jemma sighed loudly. “No.” And then she took an admittedly stupid chance. “In a different universe.”

“I’m cutting you off.”

“Hunter!” 

The smile fell from his face. “How do you know my last name?”

“Because! I know you. In a different universe. I’m going to guess most of your past has changed, but I think you’re probably the same deep down. And I need your help.” 

“Look, lady – ”

“Do you know Bobbi Morse?”

“No, and I think – ”

“Alphonso Mackenzie? Isabelle Hartl – ?”

“You know Izzy?”

“Yes!”

He stared at her for one moment, then breathed out harshly through his nose.

“Tell me everything.”

So she did, as crazy as it sounded. She told him every little detail, breaking off as he served other customers and repeating some of the more technical scientific details as often as she needed to or until he begged her to just stop and move on. And finally, she stopped, nothing more to say, long after he had yelled out _last call_ and about a half hour after the last customer left the bar.

She sat there, quietly watching as he ran a towel over the surface of the bar repeatedly. 

“You’re mental,” he finally said.

Jemma nodded in resignation, not knowing what else to say. 

“Or else I am for believing you. Probably both of us are.”

“You believe me? You’re going to help me?!”

He looked at her. “The things I do for a good-looking woman.” 

“Ugh,” Jemma groaned, tilting her head back.

She heard a small chuckle, before he added, “OK, I know a guy.”

She faced him again. “Of course you do,” she responded, her smile spreading as she allowed herself a small sliver of hope.

**

“Afternoon, Rosemary. How are you?”

Rosemary was immediately suspicious. She watched Idaho silently for a few moments, even as she continued to collate the documents in front of her.

“What do you want?” she finally asked. 

He shot her a smile that was no doubt meant to be charming. She didn’t get her job by being that easily swayed. 

“Not me, a friend of mine. He’s trying to impress a girl.”

“No.”

“Aw, Rosemary, where’s your sense of romance?”

“The last personal tour you wanted – ”

“Not a tour!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Autograph?”

“Meeting with Junior.”

Rosemary couldn’t even stop the derisive laughter at that. She didn’t even need to know what the meeting was supposed to be about. It obviously wasn’t going to happen.

“She sounds brilliant. Could be a real asset to the company. Five minutes.”

“Go away.”

Rosemary returned her focus to the papers in front of her, only to have them blocked by a cell phone. The picture on the screen showed her a young woman, beautiful, kind-looking, smiling a bit nervously. There was something about her that she couldn’t quite…

“You have 30 seconds to convince me.”

“Teaches biochem at UVA. From England. Two PhDs by the age of 17. Wants to save the world, apparently thinks she can do that by meeting with Leo. Mr. Fitz, I mean. Junior.”

“How do you know her?”

“Never met her. Friend of a friend. But I’ve done a background check and security clearance. She checks out.”

“I’ll see what I can do. What’s her name?”

“Jemma Simmons. With a J.”

“OK. Go away.”

Rosemary waited until he was gone; only after he was far enough away did she stop sorting papers and turn to her computer. She searched quickly, pulling up the woman’s faculty web site and a few publications. She soon was smiling to herself.

“She’s the one,” she muttered. “He won’t know what hit him.”

And no friend of Idaho’s would stand a chance.

**

Jemma felt ill. She closed her eyes, breathed out slowly through her nose, and smoothed her palm down her blouse. When the elevator dinged, she opened her eyes again and walked out much more confidently than she actually was. It wasn’t the fake pitch she had prepared; after a quick internet search, she determined that FitzTech had developed only about half of the joint inventions she and Fitz had made over the years – the ones he had thought of first, which made a lot of sense, really. She knew he would be impressed by any of the remaining ones, no matter what universe they were in.

What she didn’t know was how she’d react to seeing him and knowing that he didn’t know her. Didn’t love her. Who would he be when, despite his claims otherwise, he had managed to live in a world without her?

Would he be better?

Because this Fitz – this Fitz had experienced success, the support of both parents, and relationships with apparently a handful of supermodels (not that Jemma was seething with jealousy at some of the paparazzi pictures or anything). What’s more, he _hadn’t_ experienced the pain, insecurity, fear, betrayal and not to mention brain damage that had gone along with being her best friend and the love of her life. 

It was a bit daunting. The only thing she could do was remind herself over and over again that he wanted to marry her. They were each other’s happy ending and nothing was going to take that away from her, not after everything they had survived. A couple lines of code would not accomplish what a portal to another planet couldn’t, after all. 

Jemma nodded firmly to herself, but she passed it off as a nod of greeting to the woman at the reception desk. 

“Good afternoon,” she said as politely as possible. “I have a 2:00 meeting with Leo Fitz.”

“Dr. Simmons?”

“Yes.”

“So nice to meet you. I’m Rosemary.”

“Oh, hello!” Jemma’s smile turned sincerer as she connected the name to the woman who had called her after Hunter’s and Idaho’s scheme – frankly miraculously – worked. 

“Follow me,” she continued, standing and walking around her desk. “I’ll take you back to him now. I should warn you though. He hasn’t eaten lunch yet, so he might be a little cranky.”

Rosemary winked and Jemma couldn’t stop her laugh. She knew Fitz’s behavior when he was peckish all too well, and was perhaps disproportionately relieved that some things don’t change. Before she could reply further, however, Rosemary turned and knocked on an office door. She barely waited for a muffled response before turning the knob and entering. Jemma followed slowly, steeling herself. 

When she spotted him, she licked her lips, realizing she may have been preparing for the wrong thing. Certainly there was hurt when he looked at her without recognition, but there was also a shocking bolt of arousal. His stance, his demeanor, his outfit. And the expression on his face – a polite, if formal, welcome mixed with blatant appreciation as his eyes dropped down her body and lifted again in a rather sensual once-over. Jemma could feel the blush rising on her cheeks.

Fitz smiled, walked over and took her hand in his. They were warm, but didn’t feel quite right. Firm and professional, not the gentle, supportive grasp she had grown used to. Calluses in the wrong places. The incongruity was enough to break her out of her confused haze.

“Dr. Simmons?”

“Yes. Hello. Lovely to meet you, F – Dr. Fitz.”

“Please, call me Leo.”

Jemma felt her eyes widen as she tried to control her shock. _Leo_. Of all the changes in this unreality, that one might take the most effort to get used to. She forced a nod. 

“I understand you want to tell me about some prototypes.”

Jemma nodded again, a little too vigorously perhaps. He still was holding her hand and she was getting a little flustered. Especially when he squeezed it slightly, and stroked his fingers along the sensitive skin of her wrist. 

“I don’t suppose you’d want to order lunch while we talked. My treat.”

**

The day kept getting weirder and weirder. Fitz – that is, _Leo_ – kept alternating between unintentionally heartbreaking enthusiasm about the ideas Jemma presented (the same kind of enthusiasm he had when they had invented them in the real world), and decidedly un-Fitz-like flirtation that made Jemma feel all sorts of good and bad and confusing things. He was sitting far too close to her on the sofa in his office, one arm along the back of it just inches away from her shoulder. And he was watching her with an intensity that made her tingle from nervousness and the heat of the memory of the last time they sat like this, hours before they made love for the first time.

The smile on his face as he talked was simultaneously boyish and rakish and she hated and loved every second of it. 

He had cancelled all his afternoon meetings. 

Jemma had forgotten how much fun it could be to just sit with Fitz and talk and talk and talk about science and discovery and potential.

She hadn’t forgotten how blue his eyes were, but it had been far too long since she was able to just stare into them without interruption. 

Jemma swallowed, shaking her head slightly to force her attention back on the matter at hand. She actually glanced at his neck, remembering the sparks it had emitted when she stabbed the LMD. Reminding herself that she had a very important mission and an increasingly short amount of time to accomplish it.

“I’m in a bit of a dilemma,” he said suddenly.

Her brows furrowing, Jemma tilted her head inquisitively.

He ducked his head, before looking up at her again. The expression felt entirely calculated and Jemma wanted to roll her eyes, but damn it, it was working.

“I don’t know if I should offer you or a job or ask you to dinner.”

Jemma opened her mouth, struggling for an answer. The truth was, she had gone there with the intention of appealing to the logical, scientific side of his brain. The sooner he trusted her intellect, the sooner he might believe what she had to tell him. But developing a personal relationship with him might accomplish her ultimate goals much faster than a professional relationship would. Just because science had been what brought them together in the real world didn’t mean it had to be what brought him back to her. 

She was almost 90% sure that was good sense speaking, and not her libido. 

Maybe 85%.

“How about we try to solve that dilemma over drinks?” she asked, even going so far as to bite her lower lip.

She kind of hated herself. But Fitz – _Leo_ – grinned, and her responding smile was entirely sincere.

**

Hunter nearly dropped the bottle he was pouring when the door opened and Leopold freaking Fitz walked into the bar. He was closely followed by Jemma, who immediately made eye contact with Hunter. She shot him a triumphant look, and he could only shake his head. He had to admit he was a little surprised she had been successful. Although, really, he shouldn’t be. Getting in was the hard part, and he and Idaho had taken care of that. After that, she just had to get Fitz to notice her and he _was_ reportedly a genius.

Unfortunately, that meant his own half-formulated thoughts about making a move would come to nothing. Pyschotic break from reality or no, she was _quite_ the looker.

He quickly shook his head as they made their way to the bar. Jemma’s expression was both confused and wary at that, and Hunter offered an enthusiastic smile.

“Something to drink?”

They both ordered and then walked away. Hunter watched as Jemma led the way to a small table in the corner. Fitz pulled the chair out for her, and the response he got from Jemma – some weird combination of amusement, sadness, annoyance and lust – made Hunter want to simultaneously laugh and look away. 

The night went on, and Hunter sent them a few refills, not at all feeling guilty about charging top shelf liquor to Fitz’s tab. He and Jemma scooted closer and closer together throughout the course of the evening, leaning towards each other, exchanging looks that made _Hunter_ feel a little embarrassed. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised when they eventually left together looking for all the world like they were _leaving together_.

**

“Well, this is me,” Jemma announced suddenly.

Leo stopped at the announcement, a bit surprised by it and even more surprised that he was a bit disappointed by it. He didn’t feel ready to say goodbye to Jemma yet. Thankfully, judging by the way they seemed to be connecting – not to mention, his experience with every woman he’d ever been interested in – there was no need to worry about that yet. Their evening was just getting started.

Leo smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. He gestured at the door, following Jemma up the stairs to it, and waited patiently as she unlocked it. But then, rather than leading him inside, she turned to face him. She smiled, sighing lightly as she tilted her head.

“Thank you for meeting with me, and for a lovely evening.”

For the first time in his adult life, Leo was speechless. She was just…? She didn’t want…?

“You’re welcome?” he finally managed. 

She lifted up on her toes, and planted a quick kiss at the corner of his lips. He chased after it as she pulled away.

“You have my number,” she reminded him. “Use it.”

Jemma turned away, almost making it through her front door before his senses kicked back in. He reached out for her elbow, grabbing her just in time, and then he pulled her back. She turned, nearly knocking him backward off the narrow step when she made contact with his chest. And then he cupped her jaw with his free hand, holding her still and pulling her close as he gave her a _real_ kiss. 

Two could play at this game.

**

“Phil Coulson?”

Daisy tried not to reveal any of her emotions when Coulson looked up from his desk. He looked politely curious, and perhaps a bit annoyed to be interrupted during what looked to be a well-earned lunch break.

Trip walked through the open door, and Daisy followed slower. She knew Trip didn’t _really_ believe her, but he seemed willing to go along for the moment. But she couldn’t imagine any scenario where this would work if _Coulson_ didn’t believe her. She’d have to make the strongest argument she’d ever made in her life. Trip turned to her then, giving her an encouraging nod. Daisy’s answering smile was weak and tremulous. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathed in and out slowly, then opened her eyes again.

“Mr. Coulson, my name is Daisy – ”

**

“Are you doing anything this weekend?”

Against her will, Jemma smiled into the phone receiver. Fitz – _Leo_ – sounded a little nervous and a lot self-assured. 

“Which day?” she asked coyly. Best way to keep him interested was to keep him guessing. Not that she wanted him to be _interested_ , just – oh hell. Jemma had no clue what her plan was. She just knew she had to get him to the backdoor by the agreed-upon time, which was getting closer and closer. She hoped Daisy, wherever she was, was having much better luck with the others. 

“The whole weekend,” he clarified. “I want to take you somewhere.”

Jemma blinked. Well, that was a surefire way to remind herself this wasn’t her Fitz. It had taken him over a decade to confess his feelings, and even then, she had to be the one to suggest a weekend getaway. That they never actually got to go on, because of course SHIELD crises came first. 

“Where?” 

“It’s a surprise, but one I think you’ll like.”

Jemma hesitated a few moments, or perhaps she just pretended to. “How should I pack?”

Leo hummed briefly yet suggestively, and Jemma actually felt a _tingle_ shoot down her spine to…other parts of her body. 

“There are a couple ways I want to answer that,” he began, and Jemma was torn between wanting to snort in amusement and wanting to fan herself, “but I’ll just say plan for cool weather.”

 _So not the Seychelles, then_ , Jemma thought to herself. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:00.”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” she pointed out.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:00,” was his only, far too confident response before hanging up his phone. 

Jemma shook her head. She sat for a moment at the kitchen table in the flat her ID and the key on her keychain said belonged to her. And then she hopped up to find a carry-on and figure out what to pack. In the end, she included maybe a few more pieces of lacy lingerie than was necessary. For show, of course. She wasn’t really going to wear it. Or not wear it, as the case may be. 

The next evening, Jemma tried not to stare strangely at Idaho as he placed her suitcase in the trunk of the expensive, not at all subtle car. Fitz himself had also gotten out, walking around to open the door for her and assist her into the seat. Jemma waited until he had joined her and then even longer as Idaho started the car and pulled out into street. Then she twisted to face Fitz. 

“Where are we going?” she asked again, her curiosity driving her mad. 

Fitz smiled. “A small place I own. It’s quiet and beautiful countryside. A great place for us to get to know each other better without any distractions.”

Jemma hummed, a touch suspiciously. “And how long is the trip?”

“Normally, quite long,” Fitz responded. “But I designed my plane myself, and it gets _very_ good time.” 

“Wait – we’re taking a private plane? We’re going somewhere we need to _fly_ to?!” 

His only reply was a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. But soon enough, Jemma’s questions were forgotten. She tried not to gape in awe as the car took them almost directly onto the tarmac. She felt like royalty or perhaps just a very successful movie star. Fitz escorted her the remaining distance to the stairs, and then supported her by the elbow as they climbed up them. Jemma barely noticed Idaho following with the bags, or the pilot nod at Fitz from the cockpit. She was feeling a little overwhelmed. A little swept off her feet.

She wondered if he seduced all his girlfriends this way, and she scowled. 

It didn’t take her long, once the plane was in the air with water below and nose pointed east, for her to guess. 

“Are we going to…England?”

Fitz grinned at her even as he scooted closer. He placed one arm on the seat over her shoulders and leaned in. 

“Not quite. But close.”

Jemma tilted her head curiously, but he didn’t elaborate and refused to respond to any more of her guesses. She soon gave up and the trip became something of a battle of wills, with Jemma continuously trying to steer their conversation back to the prototypes she had demonstrated to him at their last meeting and Fitz – _Leo_ – distracting her with his smile and his eyes and pouring her more drinks and leaning in too close and smelling too good. She didn’t know if it was because she was trying so hard not to get lost in him and forget why she was really there, but the flight and then the car ride went by entirely too fast. ( _Because it wasn’t real, Jemma. Of course his plane made transatlantic flights even quicker than Zephyr One – it was all in their heads._ )

When they finally arrived at their destination, though, Jemma wanted to cry. 

“Where are we?”

“Perthshire.” Fitz’s answer was matter-of-fact, as if he had no idea how significant it was. How much it meant that they were standing side by side on the front step of a small cottage in Perthshire. 

She watched him silently as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He turned to her and gestured, so Jemma walked past him and inside to the front room. It was tastefully decorated, if a bit impersonal. She turned in circles, taking it all in, imagining it with their own little touches.

“Is this…your place or…?”

Fitz hummed in acknowledgment, even as he indicated she should give him her coat to hang up. Jemma removed it absentmindedly.

“My mum spends most of her time in Glasgow these days, so she’ll use it sometimes, or I’ll stay here when I need a break.” 

“Why a cottage in Perthshire of all places?” Jemma asked, trying to sound normal but knowing she wasn’t doing a marvelous job at it. 

Fitz shrugged somewhat self-deprecatingly. “Drove past it one day and just had to stop. There was something about it, or the idea of it, maybe. I can’t explain it. But I bought it from the owner on the spot." 

Jemma walked over to him somewhat involuntarily. She stared up at him, peering into his eyes as she searched for _something_. He actually began to get a little self-conscious, breathing out a laugh as he shifted his weight. 

“What?” he finally asked.

“You’re still in there, aren’t you?” she whispered. 

“Pardon?”

Jemma couldn’t restrain herself. Before she even realized it, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Despite his clear confusion, Fitz recovered quickly, deepening the kiss as he tugged her closer to his body. Jemma moaned, desperate to feel his touch again, to feel how much he loved her, to feel –

She gasped in surprise as he picked her up. Some part of her noted how unusual that felt, how rare it was for Fitz to carry her confidently into the bedroom. Because that’s where they were now, Jemma realized as he lowered her carefully onto the mattress and then climbed on top of her. She wanted to stop him, to talk, to figure out what was going on and how she should handle it appropriately, but it had felt like ages since they had been together and he felt so good and – 

“Oh, Fitz, _yes_ ,” she encouraged him as he fumbled blindly with their clothes, refusing to stop kissing her.

His chuckle in reply was in direct competition for her attention with the way his hard cock slid along her bare skin as he lowered on top of her.

“Why would you call me that?”

The question seemed rather out of nowhere. “Huh?”

Fitz pulled away from where he was sucking love bites into her neck, and Jemma nearly whined in protest. 

“My last name? Why’d you call me that instead of Leo?”

Jemma blinked. And then she pushed at his chest – hard – until he backed off her. She sat up, breathing heavily, unsure if she was going to vomit or cry. 

“We can’t do this,” she finally whispered.

She sensed Fitz do a double take, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. 

“We really, really can,” he said, half-joking as if he didn’t quite believe her.

Jemma shook her head. “You’re not the one I want.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw his shoulders sink in disappointment. “There’s – there’s someone else.”

Jemma wanted to laugh hysterically. Instead, she just shook her head. “No.”

“I…what?”

Finally, Jemma faced him. His expression was an odd mix of confusion, hurt, and interrupted debauchedness. Jemma nearly lost her will power and kissed him again.

“Fitz, if I tell you something, will you promise to just listen? With an open mind?”

He nodded, and Jemma inhaled deeply, bracing herself.

**

“I’m all she has.”

“I know it sounds crazy, Mack,” Daisy said, more than conscious of the way Coulson and Mace were watching her from the corner of the Framework’s version of the Playground, of the way Trip looked around in awe even as he never let her out of his sight, of the way Hope played in the background oblivious to the situation her father was in. “But…come back with us. For even just a few minutes. Remember who you really are and the world you really live in. Then, if you choose this, if you make an _informed_ and _aware_ decision to come back, then I’ll strap you back into the machine myself.”

Mack sighed. “I’m not agreeing yet. But I’ll think about it.”

Daisy nodded, accepting that might be the best she could hope for, at least until he could see the backdoor for himself and accept she was telling the truth. They were running out of time. She just hoped Jemma made it there, with Fitz in tow.

**

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“What you’re saying is impossible.”

Jemma shook her head, sitting straighter but coming just shy of climbing to her knees. She placed her hands on his chest and she stared at him in determination. 

“No, it’s not. Just look at all the tech you’ve – ”

“Not that part,” Fitz interrupted. He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Hell, I’m drafting the code as we speak. But – the part where I’d ever forget you.”

Jemma’s shoulders dropped in despair, devastated that the line was more romantic than seductive. She sighed an _oh Fitz_ and then suddenly he was kissing her again. He pulled her onto his lap and Jemma moaned at the sensation of her folds again coming into contact with his cock as it recovered from the interruption. She felt vaguely torn, wondering if he was humoring her to get laid or if he really did feel the connection she wanted him to. 

“Come back to me, come back,” she whimpered unintentionally.

“I’m right here.” His voice was gruff in her ear, from lust or frustration, perhaps, but she needed to believe it so badly.

“I want this so much, all of it, you, this cottage, everything,” Jemma confessed, practically sobbing, and she nearly stopped there when he gripped her bum and pressed their bodies closer. Then she braced her arms on his shoulders and pulled away from his kisses if not his body. “Just…with my Fitz.”

 _Leo_ groaned, falling back slightly, bracing himself with one hand while he wiped at his face with the other. Then he looked at her, eyes desperate and more than a little hurt. 

“If we’re what you say we are, then what’s the problem?” 

Jemma shook her head, fighting tears as she placed her hands to his cheeks. “It’s not the same.”

“Because I’m not real? Or because…I’m not good enough?”

She felt her face crumple. Somehow that insecurity made him seem more like the man she loved, and made it all so much more painful and confusing. 

“I miss him – you – him so much. I had to – The last time I saw his face, I had to – ”

She felt a sob or a scream rising up in her throat, but it was stopped by a soft, chaste kiss. Jemma gasped, and as soon as he released her, she stared into his eyes again. They were the same blue she had looked into for over a decade, and the love that shone out of them was different but still sincere. 

“We need to figure this out,” she begged.

He nodded solemnly. “We will.”

“You believe me?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

She didn’t quite buy it, but it helped calm her down. 

He grinned unexpectedly. “Would you believe me if I promised the other version of me won’t hold it against you?”

Jemma burst into laughter, all of the accumulated stress and fear in her body flowing out of her as she buried her face in his neck. His hand lifted to caress her, resting between her shoulder blades, several fingers pressing against the bumps of her spine. And then she made a decision, or maybe she just gave in. 

“Not in me,” she whispered.

Fitz – Leo – _He_ backed away, seeming rather startled. “What?”

Jemma pushed at his shoulders until he fell back onto the mattress, and she repositioned herself on top of him, already rotating her hips sensuously. She felt him perk up in response. 

“Not in me,” she repeated. “Like this.” 

“OK. Fine. Whatever you want,” he agreed, nodding frantically. One of his hands darted out, catching the hem of her shirt. “But can you – ?”

Jemma obliged, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of her shirt. She pulled it off in one smooth movement, immediately tossing it aside to focus her efforts on the clasp of her bra. As soon as it too was off, she lowered her body. She supported her weight on one arm, the other wrapping under his neck as he lifted up to latch his mouth onto one breast. He lavished attention on it and its pair, and Jemma moaned loudly, holding him close as she rocked on top of him faster and faster. They came far too soon, his release spurting onto her stomach while she trembled with her own climax on top of him. 

She collapsed, heartbeat and breath both racing. The guilt would probably come later, or maybe it wouldn’t. But right now, she just needed his arms around her and the illusion that everything was fine.

**

She knew intellectually that the sun rising above the trees in the distance wasn’t real. Neither was the steam from her tea wafting up to her face, nor the light breeze through the open window ruffling the thin fabric of her lingerie and making her nipples pebble. And most importantly, neither were the arms that unexpectedly wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against a familiar, unfamiliar torso.

“I want to stay here forever.” The thought had been plaguing her since she woke, so she finally voiced it.

Fitz – _Leo_ , she firmly reminded herself – hummed into her neck. “We could,” he suggested softly.

Jemma smiled, briefly. She reached behind her, threading her fingers into his hair. “No, we can’t.”

He startled her a bit by reaching up to grab her mug. Placing it on the windowsill, he then turned her to face him. Before she could say anything, he tugged her into a kiss. It was heady, and demanding, and almost enough to tempt her back into the bed – the _not real_ bed – she had left him in only a little while ago. 

He freed her lips but didn’t let her go, instead resting his forehead against hers. Jemma kept her eyes closed.

“What do I have to do to convince you otherwise?” he asked. 

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

“Your other world,” he surmised, a touch of annoyance seeping through. “Your real world, with the me you really want.”

“No.” _Yes._ “Sheffield.”

He pulled away fully, and his expression was a jumble of confusion and hope. “Why? To…meet your parents?”

Jemma smiled so she didn’t have to lie. It was as good a reason as any to get him to the family plot at the cemetery and the memorial stone that marked the backdoor to the Framework.

**

“You’re the real…you, aren’t you?”

Radcliffe tilted his head, surprised realization dawning on his face. “So are you.”

Daisy nodded.

“And the others? Fitz?” Radcliffe asked. 

“Can’t find him, even though he’s apparently the most famous person on the planet. I just have to hope Jemma did, because she’s not answering the phone number in SHIELD’s database.”

“Good. I’ve tried to get close to him with no luck. Why do you think I’m working here, at FitzTech of all places? Do you have a way out?”

“As long as we can stay under AIDA’s radar.”

“Good. What do you need from me?”

“Where are they? In the real world. Where is she holding them?”

He described it quickly as best he could, and then made her promise she would help Fitz understand none of it was his fault, and that Radcliffe hadn’t meant for any of this. Daisy agreed readily, but then had to leave as quickly as possible when Leopold Fitz, Senior, appeared unexpectedly in the lower level lab.

**

“So, that’s it then?” Trip wondered, as Daisy sat in the passenger seat.

“Not quite. One more stop.”

“Where?”

Daisy’s expression was overly enthusiastic, like she was trying to pretend it was no big deal, and Trip began to worry.

“We’re going to need as much help as we can.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re breaking into Hydra.”

**

“It’s OK, guys, don’t worry,” Daisy tried to encourage the others. Considering they were tied up in what appeared to be a torture room deep within Hydra HQ, it was hardly convincing.

She looked around the room as best she could from where she was restrained, trying not to feel guilty as she saw an unconscious Mace and the blood dripping from a cut on Coulson’s forehead. Then she looked at the Stormtroopers standing by the door. She wondered if she could take them if she could manage to get herself untied. She might not have her powers here – and that had been one of the very first things she checked – but she still was a field agent trained by the very best.

The door opened and in walked – 

“May!” 

It maybe wasn’t the smartest greeting to someone who was apparently high up in Hydra, and Daisy probably would have cringed about that if it weren’t for the fact that behind May was Bobbi and this day-slash-world was officially crazy. She was done with it and she wanted to go home.

May stared at her for a moment, then looked around the room and sighed when she saw the Patriot. And then, to Daisy’s complete surprise, she nodded at Bobbi who immediately pulled out her batons, tasering one of the guards and knocking out the other as he rushed at her.

“What are you doing here?” May demanded. “Did you even get clearance from Nick Fury, because he certainly didn’t say anything to me.”

“Wait…what?” Daisy couldn’t quite figure out that response or why May was now untying her. “Are you…SHIELD?”

“What, do you think we’d just let Hydra take over with nothing but your little resistance? We have a _plan_.”

“So do we,” Daisy replied, feeling vaguely offended even as she brought her arms forward and rubbed at her wrist. 

“Yeah, well, get out of here while you can. I’ve got the camera feeds blocked and security teams busy elsewhere, but hurry.”

Daisy shook her head. “You need to come with us.”

May scoffed, moving quickly to untie Coulson. “I have things to do here.”

“You should listen to her,” Coulson said. 

May finally looked at him, furrowing her brow slightly. “Who are you?”

“Phil Coulson. I’m a history teacher.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think you should listen to her.”

**

“Daisy!”

“Oh, thank God!” Daisy breathed out, even as she turned to the sound of her name in an accent she was beginning to worry she’d never hear again.

Jemma ran right into her arms, capturing her in a relieved, exhausted hug. Daisy grinned over her shoulder at Fitz, who looked very confused and not at all certain he was in the right place. 

“And you found the others,” Jemma continued, breaking free to give quick hugs to everyone else, who politely if somewhat awkwardly accepted them. Daisy noticed she gave Trip and Bobbi extra long ones, which she completely understood.

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome. Why didn’t you call?”

“I couldn’t find anything on you! You do not show up as Daisy or Skye or Mary Sue or anyone.”

“Well, yeah…OK, good point. Why didn’t you answer your phone when I finally found you?”

“Ah…” Jemma trailed off, glancing at Fitz. 

“Was it hard to convince him?” Daisy muttered under her breath.

“Yes. Things were very – hard,” Jemma replied. 

Daisy was curious about whatever Jemma was hiding, obvious by the tone of her voice and the blush rising on her cheeks. But it didn’t matter, because they were all here and ready to go and it was _time_ , damn it.

“That’s your name,” Fitz said suddenly.

They both turned to look at him. He was staring at the gravestone, looking rather pale. He lifted his head to stare at Jemma and backed away slightly. “Why is – that’s your _name_.”

Jemma held a hand out soothingly. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Fitz – ”

Daisy decided to just skip ahead to the end. “Help me,” she instructed Mack and Trip.

They seemed a bit confused by her actions, but nonetheless knelt down next to her and helped her pull the gravestone up. They both – along with everyone else except Jemma – jumped back and yelped in surprise at the sight it revealed. It was an odd combination of static and binary code, not the ground it should have been. 

“It’s real,” Mack observed, dazed.

“Yes, and I meant what I said,” Daisy replied. 

They made eye contact, and Daisy nodded. Mack looked like he was about to cry, as he looked to Trip.

“I’ll take care of her,” Trip promised. “For however long I need to.”

Daisy looked at him then.

“Because I’m not going with you, am I?” he said for her. “I’m not there, in your world.”

“You’re…needed here,” Daisy evaded. “To watch out for Hope, and to stop Hydra. And hey, catch Grant Ward while you’re at it.”

Trip smiled grimly, and Daisy couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, so she focused on Mack again. She offered him a brave smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He accepted the gesture, and then sighed. He walked closer, and then walked _into_ the portal and disappeared.

Daisy turned to May and Coulson next. They shared a glance, communicating wordlessly in a way that Daisy didn’t think they even realized was unusual for two people who supposedly just met. And then Coulson gestured. May went through first, and he followed. 

Mace clapped a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “See you over there,” he said. 

Daisy nodded. “Take care of them until I get there. Boss.” 

Daisy watched as he went through, and then looked around the remainder of their small group. Trip was already stepping back, disappearing from their lives again. Bobbi looked hesitant.

“Not me, I’m guessing,” she said. 

Daisy shook her head. “Sorry. You’re not – you’re fine over there, I think. But you’re part of this world.”

Bobbi shrugged. “Having too much fun taking Hydra down from the inside, anyway,” she said, almost convincingly. 

“Hey!” Jemma suddenly interrupted. “If you’re thirsty one night, there’s this little bar called the Merc in Virginia. Tell Hunter I sent you.”

Bobbi’s brow furrowed, but Daisy only laughed, curious and excited to hear about Jemma’s experiences in the Framework as soon as she could. 

And that left the three of them. Daisy looked over at her two closest friends, the two people who had welcomed her wholeheartedly and formed the backbone of her little SHIELD family. 

“Ready, guys?”

Jemma looked over at Fitz, who still seemed stunned and more than a little conflicted. “We’re right behind you.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Daisy nodded, hesitated briefly, and then walked through the backdoor.

**

Jemma faced F – Leo, reaching down to grab both his hands in hers. She stared at him, waiting for him to process everything and speak.

“You were telling the truth,” he finally managed, voice rough.

“Yes,” she confirmed, not even minding that he hadn’t fully believed her. He believed her now, and they were going home. That was all that mattered. 

“What’s – what’s different over there?” he asked. 

She met his eyes and saw the fear in them. She tried to imagine what it must feel like for him, realizing his whole life was a lie. Facing the unknown. 

“You’re not a trazillionaire,” she started, aiming for a joking tone but dropping it quickly when he shot her an unamused look. “But you save the world about two or three times a year. Your dad’s…not a part of your life, but your mum is so, so proud of you. Lots of things are different, big and small, and I don’t know how much of this world you’ll remember but I’ll help you figure it out because I love you.”

He glanced up at her, eyes betraying his emotion. “Over there. You love me over there.”

Jemma exhaled sharply, then paused. “I love you everywhere, it turns out, but especially over there.” It was the truth, which was the best she could offer him. This Leo was pretty wonderful, and she could have made a life with him in a different world, but he wasn’t her Fitz. 

He sighed. “OK.”

Jemma hugged him before he could step away. “Stay strong until Daisy and I get to you.”

She started to pull away, but he stopped her. “If he gets to keep you, then can I have one more kiss?”

Jemma laughed. “You’re incorrigible,” she said, even as she obliged.

**

Jemma heaved for air as she bolted upright. She felt disoriented and consequently extremely grateful for Piper and Elena supporting her on both sides. She looked across the room at Daisy, who still seemed pretty weak herself.

“Did you get the coordinates?”

Daisy nodded. “We’re almost there.”

**

The nondescript motel in the middle of nowhere near a SHIELD hangar where they’d parked Zephyr One was not the Playground and it was certainly not a cottage in Perthshire, but it had a bed and a shower and that was good enough for Jemma.

She walked out of the bathroom, drying her hair with one towel while another was strategically wrapped and knotted around her.

“Do you think he’ll go back?” she wondered aloud, giving voice to the worry that had been bothering her since they left Daisy and Mack talking quietly in the motel parking lot.

Fitz shrugged. He turned to look at her, eyes dropping quickly to the dots of water beaded across her cleavage and then bouncing back up to her face. Jemma suppressed a smirk. 

“Dunno,” he finally replied. “Doubt it.”

She crawled awkwardly onto the bed next to him and then straightened the towel that had gaped wide during the process. 

“It felt real, though?” she asked. “His daughter – ”

“I can’t explain it. It felt real and I still have – all the memories, but…he knows it’s not real. He knows she – she died and nothing can replace her, certainly not some…fake version of what could have been.”

“Are you thinking about your father?” Jemma asked softly, tired of tiptoeing around the subject. 

Fitz shrugged. “He’s not dead. Unfortunately.”

Jemma fought against a little smile, then leaned closer. She rested her head against his back and wrapped an arm low around his waist. They sat that way for a while, taking comfort in each other’s touch and trying to relax. Or so she thought.

“I can’t believe you slept with him!” Fitz suddenly exclaimed. 

Jemma barked a laugh against her will, slapping her hand to her mouth to stifle it. She cleared her throat, and forced an innocent expression to her face. 

“Not…completely.”

Fitz shook his head in a shaming manner. Jemma lost the battle, giggling as she held out her hands in a pose that was half-surrender and half- _whatyagonnado?_

“He was super-rich,” she pretended to explain. “And super-hot. Did you see some of those suits?”

“Right, OK,” Fitz responded, twisting around to face her. 

He tugged her down by the hips until she flopped onto the mattress fully. 

“He had a private plane,” she added, squirming as he tickled her while unknotting the towel. “And a cottage in Perthshire.”

But Fitz ignored her in favor of undressing himself. Once he matched her own nude state, he lowered himself onto her body. Jemma hummed in approval at the feel of his skin and his cock and the way he buried his hands in her hair and stared into her eyes.

“I’m going to fuck him out of you now,” he informed her, a cool confidence to his voice that was far more Leo than Fitz, even if he didn’t realize or admit it. Or perhaps it was all the same person, in the end. 

Jemma grinned. “I love you, Fitz.”


End file.
